


Mending

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Tucker visits Reed in sickbay after he gets clobbered by holograms and finds the lieutenant in a strangely talkative mood. (07/01/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 1.16 "Shuttlepod One."  
  
Super thanks to my beta. As always, much appreciated.  


* * *

"Ah tell ya, lieutenant, we gotta stop meeting like this."

Trip's voice. As unmistakable as Dr. Phlox's smile or the smell of Sickbay. If anything, the commander's southern drawl seemed more pronounced than usual—'lew-tenant', as if the word had a space between the syllables—almost as if Trip was putting it on especially for him. Under normal circumstances Malcolm supposed it might irritate or even anger him, that Trip would poke fun at him like this: here, now. Except that these were not normal circumstances and not very much was irritating him at the moment.

Instead Malcolm just smiled, though he wasn't completely sure he managed it. His face was a little numb—a side-effect that he was sure came from the broad-spectrum painkiller Phlox had administered an hour ago and was still, as far as he knew, latched contentedly onto the side of his neck. "Come to pay your last respects, commander?"

Trip chuckled, a warm, rich sound that Malcolm knew might make him blush just to hear it if it weren't for Phlox's marvellous creature shielding him, keeping him immune from such trivial concerns as shame and infatuation.

"Whoa," Trip said with mock seriousness, "didn't realize you were that near death's door." He grabbed a nearby chair, spinning it around before he sat on it, so that he was straddling the seat and resting his arms on the backrest, the way it seemed all American men had been trained to sit in chairs. It made for a nice physical barrier between them however, which Malcolm was sure he would normally be appreciating. "What do I tell all those lovely ladies at Starfleet?"

"Starfleet..." Malcolm's mind had been wandering, taking some pleasant path inspired by the intriguing thought of Trip straddling anything, and he blinked, going back to the conversation with some effort. His brows knit as he tried to concentrate, which was seemed both an incredibly difficult and uninteresting task at the moment. He let his head roll towards Trip. "I'm sorry, but I can't seem to remember what we were just talking about."

"Sweet Jesus!" Trip leapt off the chair so fast it rocked back and forth before settling back onto its legs. "What the hell did that quack do to you?"

Oh. Right. He hadn't seen it yet. "It's a parasite," Malcolm supplied helpfully, wondering dimly why the small creature should be causing the commander such alarm. "Apparently it feeds on certain neural transmissions. Dr. Phlox was very eager for me to try it."

Trip made no move to sit back down. "You let him put that...bug on you?" He sounded absolutely horrified.

"It's actually a crustacean," Malcolm said. He tried to gesture towards the creature but found it slightly too difficult to move his arm. "It's quite harmless—Phlox said I would return completely to normal a few minutes after it was removed."

Trip did not look convinced. He sat down slowly, his eyes fixed to the parasite as if any second he expected it to launch itself off of the lieutenant's neck and on to his. "You must've been hurt pretty bad."

Malcolm was almost certain he managed to shrug, and supposed that the movement would have hurt if not for the parasite. "Not particularly. The laser blast was bad, but I've had broken ribs before. The doctor was more surprised that holograms had inflicted the damage."

"I'll bet," Trip snorted. He reached out with one hand, almost touching the creature on Malcolm's neck. Then he seemed to think better of it. He gave a small shudder. "Does it hurt?"

"Not at all," Malcolm answered. "It's an odd feeling, really..." he closed his eyes to help his concentration, trying to find the right words to explain.

"Malcolm?"

"Yes sir?" When he opened his eyes he was looking almost directly into Trip's blue ones. The engineer looked concerned.

"You...uh...you were tellin' me what that critter on your neck was like." Trip's eyebrows were deeply furrowed. "You sure you're all right?"

"Brilliant." Malcolm said. He wanted to smile to reassure Trip, but he didn't know if he really was or not but found he didn't much care. "I feel absolutely brilliant."

"'Long as you're all right," Trip said, a little uncertainly, "'cause you ain't actin' entirely yourself right now. It's a little worryin'."

"That's sweet," Malcolm said. "How incredibly sweet of you. That's lovely." It seemed his eyes had drifted shut again because he couldn't see Trip—or anything else—anymore, but it was much easier than keeping them open so he decided he didn't mind. "I didn't think you cared."

There was a brief silence, and Malcolm thought maybe he heard Trip swallow a couple of times. "Well, of course I care, Malcolm—You're my friend."

"That's nice," Malcolm sighed. "I thought Leanna was your friend. Or the Captain. Captain Archer is a very good friend of yours, isn't he?"

"Well, sure..." Another pause. "Look, Malcolm, I don't think this is the best time for visitin'. I'll come back later, 'kay?"

"You know," Malcolm continued, "I didn't think we were friends. Not until the shuttle pod, anyway. Not until we almost died." With his eyes closed it seemed his voice was coming from a distance, like it didn't belong to him anymore. It wasn't particularly unpleasant. Rather liberating, even. "...I wish I'd shared my blanket with you." He heard Trip's grunt in surprise. "I'm so sorry about that—I didn't know how cold you were. I would never have let you get so cold."

Trip's voice sounded almost a little strangled. "Mal-"

Malcolm reached out blindly, eyes still shut. It was strange how sluggishly his arm moved. "I'm so glad you didn't die. I was so scared you were going to die." His hand finally made contact around the commander's wrist.

He felt Trip's muscles stiffen under his fingers. Trip jerked his hand away.

_You've humiliated him, you twit._ The normal violence wasn't present with the words in his mind, no doubt a result of the doctor's parasite. But the echo of it was there, and Malcolm knew it would hurt like hell as soon as he was himself again. _You knew he would never be interested; you bloody fool—why did you have to do anything?_ The parasite. The parasite of course. It was affecting him worse than alcohol; blasting his inhibitions apart at the exact moment he most needed them. He forced his eyes open, to see Trip standing, one hand on his slim hip and the other rubbing at his temple as if were in pain.

"I'm sorry, commander," he said, doing his best to sound completely normal, sober and alert. "It's this creature." He tried to force a laugh, didn't quite manage it. "I don't even know what I'm doing."

Trip nodded absently, though Malcolm wasn't sure the commander had even heard him. "Yeah, I s'pose it'd be doin' that..." he glanced behind him, as if Dr. Phlox or someone else might be there, though Malcolm could see the Sickbay was empty except for the two of them. Then Trip turned the chair around and sat down again, slumping against the backrest. He pulled up one leg and dropped his ankle on his opposite knee.

"So..." Trip said after a long moment, "if I was gettin' the notion you might be attracted to me—it'd just be 'cause o' the parasite."

"Exactly." Malcolm sagged in relief. Thank god. Thank god. He was fighting the creature on his neck now, trying to get himself back under control. Doctor Phlox had been so enthusiastic about the painkilling crustacean it had never occurred to Malcolm how dangerous it might be. He would never accept it again.

Trip's smile was strangely sly. "So you ain't really attracted to me."

Malcolm sucked in a surprised breath and it hurt. On his neck he could feel the small crustacean moving, as if trying to find better purchase for it's thousands of microscopic teeth. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. His eyes were fixed on Trip's. They were such a gorgeous blue.

"I am," he said, almost groaning as he made the admission. He turned his head so he was facing the opposite wall. It made his wounds ache but he didn't care. "I am," he whispered. "God help me." He could feel the parasite squirming against his neck as it looked for new teeth-holds. "I'm sorry."

He said nothing after that, closing his eyes as a kind of escape. He knew he was blushing—his whole body felt like it was on fire—and his guts seemed iced over with fear. All he had to do was wait and the parasite would latch on to him again, and he wouldn't feel any of this, wouldn't feel anything. If he waited long enough Trip would leave. They could both pretend this had never happened. Maybe someday he'd be able to look his commander in the eye again.

"Malcolm," Trip's voice was quiet, strangely gentle. "Is that why you never use my name? Because—because you're attracted to me?"

Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, wincing as if he could physically force the memory from his mind. "Please, commander. Please, don't."

Trip laughed. The sound punched through Malcolm's heart like a bullet.

"I don't believe it." Trip said. He sounded completely amazed. Malcolm said nothing.

"I don't friggin' believe it." Trip laughed again, the sound touched unbelievingly by joy. "All this time—all this time I'm thinkin' you hate my guts 'cause it's always 'yes, sir; no, sir' 'til I figure I'll go crazy, like you can't even stand me enough to use m'name, and it's 'cause you're attracted to me." He let out another chuckle, and Malcolm could imagine him shaking his head. "I'll be damned. I'll be god-damned."

There was a touch on Malcolm's forehead, soft pressure as Trip smoothed his hair back. "Please look at me, Malcolm," he said, "It's all right."

Slowly, Malcolm turned his head and opened his eyes. Trip was standing over him, smiling so tenderly Malcolm's breath caught. "All this time," he said again. "Boy, you sure are full of surprises."

Malcolm had to swallow before he could speak, and even then he thought his voice might crack completely. "I believe, commander, that your surprises far outstrip mine."

Trip grinned. He reached with his other hand and took Malcolm's, threading their fingers together. Then his face became serious. "Call me Trip. Please. I really want ta' hear you use my name."

"Trip," Malcolm said. The simple word felt like a benediction. "Commander Trip, I think I am in love with you." He grinned back, now actually able to feel it. "And that's not the parasite. It's me."

"Good to hear," Trip said. He leaned over and kissed him—a chaste touch of lips that nonetheless burned with promise straight to Malcolm's toes. "Ah'd hate to think ah was starting a relationship 'cause of a parasite."

"Well, technically, you are." Malcolm admitted. He wanted to grab the back of Trip's head, pull those firebrand lips back to him, but his body still wasn't entirely cooperative. "If it wasn't for the parasite I doubt I would have ever said anything."

Trip laughed. "I still ain't never gonna like bugs." He leaned in once more and this time his kiss was soft and wet and lingering. When he finally pulled back both men were flushed and breathing hard. Malcolm's ribs protested with every inhalation, but he didn't care. The pain was beautiful. The pain was amazing.

Trip dropped one last, swift kiss on Malcolm's forehead. "Better let ya rest," he said, and winked. "I think we got a lot of...catching up to do when you get out of here." He put the chair back and strode out, turning back once for a final farewell smile.

Malcolm let his head fall back. He wanted to laugh, but his ribs hurt too much. He wanted to shout for joy but he still couldn't move. "Trip," he whispered, exhaling the name like a sigh, "I'm going to call you Trip."

And he would. He absolutely would.


End file.
